Page 83 of Role Play
“Meaning she falls for an act and not the real you?”
“Possibly. I act so much, I don’t ever remember the real me.”
She studies me, head tilted. “I went out on a date with this cute younger guy, all innocent of course, and you know what he told me?”
I know damn well she’s talking about me. It’s why Celeste still hires me to escort her to events—she doesn’t want to date right now. I doubt another suitor has miraculously appeared in the past couple weeks. “What’d he say?”
“It’s never too late to start over…rewrite your story. If you’re tired of the act, maybe it’s time to make a change. Leave the business. You know you’d have Rina’s full support.” Sometimes I forget Celeste is dear friends with my boss.
“Using my words against me,” I muse.
“Inspiringyou with your own words. What’s your hesitance?” Celeste asks. “You’ll miss the thrill of all the different women?”
“Not remotely,” I quickly answer. “I’ll miss the guaranteed paycheck. There’s nothing else I can do that makes this amount of money, this quickly, without requiring me to put my degree to use.” Not to mention, if I so much as upload a résumé to Indeed, Sean and his firm would cook me like a sunburn. They won’t let me take any type of corporate job until their debt is repaid.
“There are more important things than money,” Celeste intones, surveying her luxurious yacht. “All this, and do you think I’m happy?”
“Dakota needs me to have a solid income and flexible schedule. Escorting just makes sense for now.”
“But does it?”
The question hangs between us. Before I can answer, a sleek town car pulls up to the marina entrance. Through the lightly tinted windows, I catch a glimpse of long, dark hair.
“She’s here,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry.
Celeste follows my gaze. “Then that’s my cue to disappear. The chef, servers, and captain all know the plan.” She presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Maybe tonight, try to be yourself.”
“Dressed like this?” I ask, touching the lapels on my tux.
“You’re in a tux these days more often than not. Maybe this is the new you.”
I roll my eyes. “Thank you for this.” I mean it. “I owe you.”
“Consider us even if this actually works out.” She winks and unburdens me of my champagne flute before she heads for the gangway.
As Celeste leaves, I watch Sora step out of the car. She pauses, looking up at the yacht with uncertainty and awe. The dress she wears—the same one I tore at the wedding, now perfectly restored by Celeste’s team—hugs her curves in all the right ways. The pink fabric, veiled in black tulle, catches the fading light, making her glow against the darkening sky.
For a moment, I pretend this isn’t an arrangement or research or whatever we’ve been telling ourselves. Right now, she’s just a woman I adore, and this is just a date I’ve been looking forward to.
“Permission to come aboard?” Sora calls up, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. “Do people still say that?”
“No,” I call back, before I hustle down the stairs to meet her. Once we’re close, I extend my arm, cradling her hand with mine. I press my lips to the back of her hand. “But permission granted. You look like royalty.”
Her fingers feel cool in mine, her grip light. Up close, I notice the nervous pulse at her throat, the careful makeup, the slight tremor in her smile. “Thank you. Perfect compliment, sir.” She gestures at the yacht around us. “This is…a lot.”
“Too much?” I ask, suddenly unsure. Maybe this was overkill. Maybe a quiet dinner somewhere would’ve been better. “Isn’t over the top right on the nose for a billionaire romance?”
Her smile relaxes into genuine. “It’s magnificent. Just unexpected. When you said we were going to research the billionaire trope, I thought we’d have to use our imaginations. But this feels…quite real.”
“Go big or go home,” I quip, trying to mask my nerves. “Daphne mentioned you’ve dabbled in billionaire romances. Does this match up to your vision?”
“Far exceeds,” she answers softly.
A server approaches with champagne. I take two glasses, hand one to Sora, then dismiss him with a curt nod—channeling the impatient billionaire I’m supposed to be portraying.
“Thank you so much,” Sora calls after him, her sweet, innocent etiquette unsuppressable. She turns to me, her lips morphing into a giddy-like smile. “Butlered champagne? Nice touch.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” I offer my arm, which she takes after a brief pause. “Welcome aboardArtemis. For the next four hours, she’s all ours.”
